


Yellowfever

by LeftNutSlick



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: :), Bugs and Insects, Demon!Shane took the body from a dying bitch in the settler era, I ALSO FORGOT TO SAY TW/SENSORY OVERLOAD, M/M, TW/BUGS AND INSECTS, bc im a stupid gay, but goatman will be making an entrance (A big one if you ask me), bye hoes, im also not mentioning any of the houses or locations for shit, im bad w/tags, sensory overload in ch.4 beginning, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-07-15 10:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftNutSlick/pseuds/LeftNutSlick
Summary: Settler era Demon falls in love w/some chump tht reincarnates evry so often. Demon follows guy thru yrs/lives. Fast forward a few bodies to This Gay n Age and they live their lives as Shane n Ryan. Shit n confessions ensue bc demons are gay(?) and like unecessary conflict. Also first chapter is in the americas settler era where demon shane gets his first body (n keeps it)





	1. The punchline

Heat. Unbearable heat. His skin clung to the only sheets he was given. All ragged and threadbare, as is the rest of the surroundings. Shane couldn't breathe, almost. Every second he spent holding his breath, sent more of an unbearable pounding to his skull. He felt as if he were swaddled tightly by the air around him. Every fiber of his being struggled to be rid of this bout of this suffering. The humidity in the room licked every inch of his skin, matting his hair waywardly. He no longer winced at the thudding in his head. Shane had better things to fret on. Things like getting back to harsh labors. He needs this. The family needed all they could ever take, especially since he's been put on bed rest. His presence is a mere ghost of itself when treading on familiar grounds. The only thing he knew he could hope for, is that god had the mercy to lead them to turn a cheek. To view him as the working and providing father they once had. The patriarch they deserved. He only furrowed his brows when he remembered the last banter he had with his wife.

 

"Darling, you need rest. You needn't worry on the rest of us. There's plenty a bounty on the table. If you had half the mind you'd see that we make do and are content with that." Her eyes were defiant. Having gone at this concept for days only boils on higher. The two, now one, breadwinners no longer speak with concern or reason, rather they spit fire, constantly creating a bigger crater between the pair. 

"There's nothing right with a man living off his wife like a swine. Feasting from your works has had my heart churn for days. You may provide bounty, but you know damn well I am the backbone of this family. God will not let me live with this shame." Shane being of no correlation to what a man should be nowadays made him burn with embarrassment. His pride wounded for what seems like a childish millennia gave him an unfailing insufferability.

Tears well on his wife's face. Her cheeks soiled from the burning tears she'd been collecting in the cold bedroom they once shared. To only be yelled at like a bratty child demanding attention was more than enough to send her through the roof. Her voice broke into shards that tore at her tongue.

"I've had to work my ass off like a bitch to keep up with this family. I am tired of the moaning and crying you've been making. My children sound more reasonable than you. Get your bitterness away from me and be the man you so badly crave to be." She stormed off once again to collect herself. She needed to be stronger.

Shane's headache only becoming more and more prominent almost brought him to his knees. He needed rest. The more he did gave him a better chance of a quick recovery. He trudged begrudgingly to where he was commissioned to haunt till remission; the bed sheets giving a restlessness to the allusion of which miserable occupant might be hurting there.

 

Being sought after by vermin and creature alike for the saline-like dew that drips off of your flesh isn't one of the most desirable of traits. The flies buzz around him at a mind numbing pace. refusing to be swatted away. They buzzed on with a mocking madness to them. landing on you and only coming back for more. He begged the lord for a death never swifter. The smell in the room was an odor so decrepit that Shane kept his head in the less than weak breeze from the window of the room.

He doesn't, no, he couldn't handle this. Shane stood tall. Face hollow with hard, oily stubble patches. His eyes yellowed from god-dare-say-what. They droop with an incentive of wishing they could let tears fall- but they couldn't. The clothes he had poorly hung to his body, greased with days of overuse.

Putridity; it had encompassed him for far too long.

Impurity; the pigsty he commended was by his own accord.

Pungent-like; Shane's throat burnt with bile and craved balm.

With his head held high, he raised his lanky arms in anguish and swiped everything on his nightstand away. The swings were quick flurries- pushing and throwing everything possible. It wasn't enough. He pushed over a wooden stool and then some. Ripping off bookshelves from their poorly nailed-to-the-walls hinges. every ounce of his malice went into this havoc. This tantrum. Papers and leaflets torn to petty shreds. He threw himself to the floor and tore out pieces of thin floorboard. Splintering and ripping away at the skin on his working hands were the awry wood chips. He sccumbed to the blinding rage too quickly. Shane's hands covered his face; smearing blood and stray pieces of the flooring here and there. Sweat and tears made trails on his dirtied skin. They stung on the abrasions newly born upon his palms. He rested his head in them. He feels the pain dulling to a thump. Hot rolls of acid well up from his throat to his eyes, blinding him. The tears puddle on the freshly dug up foundation of the floor. He belts out body-convulsing sobs. Howling his pains to the world. His breathing struggling and heaving. A new liquid running down from his nose makes way for its debut to the world. For what seems like air depriving hours, he slowly comes back to reality. Shane was left alone. His wife only watched from afar. She felt disgusted with what she's married to. That thing deserves the curse god had lain unto him. Shane now was laying where he knelt. Silently whimpering between breaths. 

His muscles ached in unison with the rhythmic pangs of pain he experiences inside and out. The sheer feeling of crushing embarrassment alone would send any man running, but the physical casualties being committed? Imagine the toll. Shane couldn't change any aspect of this, as far as his wounded pride told him. He kept mentally rolling over the hopes of ending his life's journey here. After all, isn't his body saying the same? The sharp thorns of his mind encouraged the easiest form of release, but even he knew committing the shameful atrocity of bathing his hands in the blood of its own host is already weak enough. Any brimstone and fire is more pleasurable than this. Even so, The ailment he carries lays persistent.

Woefully, persistent.


	2. Still, the fuckin beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone forgets to bring the dog back into the house :/ Jus a warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was eating beans while I was sitting on the floor today and I remembered that I needed to upload chapter 2 in my docs :p

_ Gentle fingers held and spun cotton threads to twine them into crosshatching motions that receded over valleys and summits. The craters riddled the hosts hands, callus having no say in their stay. Shane felt lukewarm in his body. The calms of gentle, guilty waves after a hurricane. They softly came in and receded as if sorrowful and apologetic. His body was to mold to any task it was asked of, as it should have all along. Lines of worry began to form on the face of beauty. His wife, even if knowledged, felt empathy towards the man. She knew more than to play him as the victim, but she still felt his pain, and thus mended the damage he's done unto himself. Or at least, all she had to her power of the matter. She ran to the wash, and rung a few towels in warm water to drape over Shane's face. During this time he laid himself flat in his bed again, this time with the only good covers they had left. Cleansing the dry blood and sweat from it was a light yet necessary task, even if his face would go back to worse terms in the long run. Temporary comfort was a commodity this time. She sat beside Shane, crooning over to study his features. _

_ There was a part of her that knew something it never dared to repeat to reality. The animalistic spit of truth that landed on the face of fantasy and coping. He was getting worse. His face more sunken than ever, and eyes dinged with the fullest of dusty moons. He wanted to breathe, but it was getting cumbersome. The headaches only echoed closer and closer with every stalled breath. Tears welled on the eyes of his nurturer, giving her the visage of a weeping seraph of heaven looking down on the suffering souls of hell. Her chest was heaving with shocks that slowly but surely broke every part of her being. They rolled into mounds on her beautiful and soft fawn like eyes. Large and once glowing with the radiance of a child, they creased with sorrow and sadness of the inevitable fleeting of her husband. She lightly caressed his cheeks, with the spouting waterworks poring directly from the rivers of her love. She broke down and sobbed when realizing there was no miracle cure. No ounce of prayer was ever going to return what is to be lost. Shane's nursed hand caressed the damp skin of his darling. She cradled it dearly, wanting to savor every moment she could. Her lips trembled on with the labored breathing of the pair. _

_ She whispered to him with a light in her mind.; softly swaying her own negatives away. _

_ "I'm so sorry darling. I needn’t anger you in such a way. Just please, if there was any way, would you-” Her words were halted abruptly by her own hitching breath. “Would you ever forgive me before its too late? Could you even find it in your heart to spare me some mercy and say it wasn’t my fault?” The words streaming from her mouth became fast yet hesitant, as if attempting to have a change of heart. “My selfishness… My selfishness may only reach god but by my words it is out of love and grief for you. The name of the Lord will be renounced by me if that is what it takes to get you to see that I labor for our family. For the love I have.” Her chest was jittered and shaken with the blurt of confessions. She mustered the last of her emotional strength to say, “Just please forgive me!” _

_ Shane saw an almost hallucinative aura around her. She was pleading for something that she shouldn’t even need to bat an eye for. His heart only sunk with guilt, seeing as this was his doing.  _

_ “Would you really renounce the name of god for light in my ignorance?” He cracked a smile that was quite small, but it held a happiness that hasn’t been seen in ages. _

_ “Why wouldn’t I?” She replied, filled with a slight relief, Her dress plumed and doused with stray tears. _

_ Shane looked up at her figure, dishevelled and distilled in fear. Before he spoke, he gave a small smile, trying to quell her fears. “I’ll do the same, darling. By the witnesses of God’s right hand I will. And I’ll stay by your side for the rest of your days.” _

_ Her face now glowing through the blinds of worry, broke into a tiny heap of laughter, letting the embodiment of sun Shane once knew shine through after all these torturous moments. _

_ “Look at us, we best hush up before the children come to see if the dust has cleared. I’ll get some of the boys to come help me clear out this pigsty.” _

_ “You go and do that, precious. I won’t move a muscle.” She smiled at that little jest. As she left, he shot up looking for a blade and one of the nearby vermin to seek away for tonight. They were needed for a sealing of word. _

_ He’s gonna keep his damn promise. _

__

_ The night brings a chill, and Shane knew not of what lies over his realm of sight. Holding a blade in one hand, and the neck of an artfully-skilled-yet-presumably-alive opossum in the other, he walked a fair distance from his lot. In the back of his mind he knew if he were to shout he’d want no one to lend an ear. The stars bathed him in their motherly light and the empty abyss of prairie tucked at his haunches. The settlement camp faded as time went on, giving him more than enough space to do as he pleased. _

_ Shane kneeled to a marker of spiked rusty metal, just barely visible. By who it was left? No one was to discover the answer. Whoever did, to the best of his knowledge, was shameful at writing. Almost illegible letters spelled a name so foreign it felt all too bizarre to be read. _

_ “I- I call unto you Ma- uhh MA- (lord this unholy language) Madej.” A quick swipe at the opossums gut was all it took to squirt over the marker. Soft hissings of what only can be described as steam through kettles were filling the ambiance, only to come to a hissing halt. He furrowed his brows in confusion, till he threw his blade in frustration. Shane cursed and heaved his mightiest of rages, even if he was too tranced by his earlier tantrum to try and use any force of sort. He thrashed about and stomped around till his foot felt a deep penetration too painful to not yelp. Him now leaving light puddles in the sand was worrying.  _

_ “Stupid demon.” Shane turned in the other direction, now disappointed in whatever eternally-damning deed was supposed to happen. There was a creak from behind him, and then a sputter. It soon turned into a full on cackling fire that forced Shane onto his stomach from force. He scuttled to his feet to turn and be met face to face with a towering apparition that had hooves for legs and the body of a man. It’s eyes were as dark as the night sky, yet absent of the celestial blessings that house it. _

_ “ _ **_Helloooo mortals! Howsa hangin- wait you aren’t from Salem._ ** _ ” _

_ Shane was left speechless. He was sure now that his soul was damned for eternity. _

_ “My Lord what behemoth are you?” Shane pursed his lips in disgust. This thing reeked in the smell of mutt.  _

_ _ “ _ **_That is quite rude of an impression. Gotta hand it to ya though, it the nicest thing I’ve been called all day._ ** _ ” The demon smiled through his words, but didn’t  _ _ _ seem to have anything but eyes and a plateau of skin… could it possibly not have a mouth? _

_ “ _ **_Look, I know what your thinking and yes, I don’t have most of a face. It's only because when my form was translated to organic it makes it as close as possible to the real thing, thus this… fleshy… whatever.”_ ** _ The thing groped and pulled at the flat rise of skin where its mouth should be. _

_ Shane tried so hard to come up with his words but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. _

_ “ _ **_If I didn’t do this, your mind would melt by looking at my truest form._ ** _ ” _

_ “You’re so vile! No different from the vermin I slaughtered to reach you.” He backed up wishing he brought his rosary with him. _

_ The demon stood still, unamused. It’s probably lived for millennia, fully aware of its off putting form. _

_ “ _ **_You should see angels._ ** _ ” It spoke. “ _ **_At least we bother to create a temporary life form that won’t cause someone to have their eyeballs rupture and bleed out._ ** _ ”  _

_ The apparition snuck closer towards Shane, hooves digging into the soil. A whipping tail lightly caressed his ankles till it yanked him to the air, letting him dangle mercilessly. _

_ “ _ **_You called me for a reason, what is it? C’mon, speak up now. You did stab your foot for this, and I know you’re sick. I know you’re dying. There must be a reason you keep wasting my time._ ** _ ” _

_ It hield shane higher in the air, pulling him closer to its mouthless jaw. He began to scream and thrash wildly, kicking nothing but the night air. The demon’s muzzle skin began to tear and rip, sending blood beading down its pale neck. The newly formed mawl unhinged like a cobra’s, flashing its rows of teeth. Suddenly, Shane was dropped to the ground. _

_ The creature bellowed in laughter, sealing the cavern on its face. The only thing heard throughout the entire plateau was the cackling from the unholy beast. Every reed and bush hushed, every wind ceased their primal howl. Everything that could ever think of breathing the words of life stopped to listen to what the creature was to decree. _

_ “ _ **_Oh. my. LORD! Dude! Speak UP your boring me to death._ ** _ ” Now annoyed, the fiend gruffed in childlike annoyance. During this time Shane took to light that the evil spirit was fading. Its words turned as unimportant as the surprisingly alive sacrificial opossum that scuttled behind a rock to safety long ago. Shane fazed his hand through its slightly opaque legs, wondering how it was able to grab him in the first place. Is it a matter of concentration? Or is it that the things tail was the only thing capable to physically affect things in this realm. Shane toyed with it in his hands, fumbling it back and forth. _

_ “ _ **_And then Beatrice was mad at ME for printing the wrong copies- Are you even listening to my story?_ ** _ ”  _

_ “Fascinating. Tell me, how does your tail work?” _

_ “ _ **_Oh. OH! Thaaaats why you summoned me. Buddy you shoulda said somethin. I swear, you humans and your anthro fetishes._ ** _ ”  _

_ Shane knew nothing of what the demon said, but knew enough to decipher that he wasn’t looking for… whatever it was implying.  _

_ “Whatever you just said, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you meant. And I assure you, that isn’t why I summoned you.” _

_ The demon felt slightly disappointed, but only slightly, as he figured someone in this physical state wouldn’t do the job to well anyway. He wasn’t in the mood to top. _

_ “ _ **_Alright then, what is it?_ ** _ ”  _

_ “Do you, by any chance, know of a way you can let me be with my family? The most I need is for my wife to outlive me.” _

_ “ _ **_Is this all you want? Really? No like, immortality or… riches? You know, you passed your average life expectancy already._ ** _ ” _

_ “All I want is for my wife is to be happy, sir.”  _

_ “ _ **_I’d like to give you a proposition, a slightly-better-for-me haggle. You see…_ ** _ ” _

_ The demon used his tail to grab the hiding opossum which was previously assumed dead from behind the rock. It, now knowing it has been captured, gave up on playing dead. It felt baffling to Shane on how such an animal can hold such suicidal tendencies within its puny eyes. _

_ “ _ **_I’d like to point out the fact that you were able to shove your hand through my body._ ** _ ” He then flings the vermin back and forth through his own body for emphasis. _

_ “ _ **_My tail is the only thing that can physically interact with your environment, and that’s some witchy mumbo jumbo I really don’t have time to explain. Now, this all could change if I had a host. That's where you come in!_ ** _ ” He used some sort of power he apparently possessed to dangle the poor creatures arms like a ragdoll, ventriloquizing it for his explanations. The opossum began to walk on its hind legs, obviously not by choice. The giveaway was the absent minded screeching and wailing it sounded off too. _

_ “ _ **_I take your body right here and now and parade as the slowly recovering husband she’s always wanted! It’s a great trade off. I’m also not accepting any later offers, as my disappearing form has not much time left._ ** _ ”  _

_ He then gestures to his fleeing legs and torso, but aimlessly floating tail. _

_ Shane considered his options, and weighed his mind. There was an aura of negative energy here, and it wasn’t to be trusted. Then again, he barely had any energy left from his time dangling in the air, and he knew it was only speeding down from there.  _

_ Shane stuck out his hand, with a fire in his soul that stirred with the love for his darling wife. A woman like her deserved to be cared for, even if she was well off on her own.  _

_ “I do need to warn you, of my wife of course.”  _

_ “ _ **_What would anyone like you need to warn an entity beyond your realms of reality like me? If you think it’s so important, then go ahead._ ** _ ” _

_ “It’s people like her who make you value all that is good. They make you see that, there are some worth giving away your life for. It’s not anything a creature like you would know of, but you’ll find a reason to defy your creator. Even if you know you’ll lose.”  _

_ Flames rose in a circle ringing the two together. They rose higher as the demon scoffed. The opossum was flung away, to scurry into the night. _

_ “ _ **_So do we have a deal?_ ** _ ” _

_ “Yes, we do.” _

_ And at that, Shane kept his damn promise. _

__

 

/// _ Some considerable time later _ ///

/// _ Like,,,, a couple hundred years. Maybe 2 hundred/// _

 

_  
_ Almost sounding like the light footsteps of a bell in fright, Ryan’s clammy hands  _ plinked _ across the porcelain of the teacup. Small swirls of heat rose from the cups golden-brown contents, and lavishly stroked the frosted figure’s face. The freezing household was the cause of blame, warranting anyone who dared lounge be met with a chilled fate, having rose bright knuckles with winter-kissed noses. Morning’s bright smile embraced the snow steadily falling outside, as it gave a type of pure luminescence that bounced off the walls and caressed every face who came across it. Soft blankets with hairs of faux beast were weighing possibly half of the short man’s weight compactedly draped over him, attempting to beckon him to another few moments of rest. Ryan felt as if the newborn streams of sunlight pouring into the establishment were thawing out his body, letting his semi-sentient and sleep induced appendages receive the warmth they deserve. The winter cabin was beautiful, even if Shane had to pick the one closest to the edge of the woods. It hummed with a breeze so strong it was almost alive, chimney smothered and all; walls in a vibrato of sleeping breaths deep and low. Speaking of Shane and his odd choices, the silence was broken by a sudden outpour of  _ clangs _ and curses that streamed violently from the kitchen. Ryan being dopey from morning bliss tremorred with each one, feeling the vibrations in his skull. He stood up, dragging the blanket across the frigid floorboards in hopes of carrying his only source of warmth towards the commotion. 

In a soft voice Ryan managed to gargle out,”I take it you are failing miserably yet are in high hopes of making a breakfast burrito.” His eyes could only focus on a flimsily opened package of tortillas and tupperwares filled with dinner leftovers that were strewn across the counters; it brought a smile to his face, reminding him of the times he was a child, cooking himself breakfast for the first time.

“I am quite literally determined to create the ultimate breakfast ever since you said that I can’t cook for shit.” Shane never wished more than ever to bring reason to this man’s eyes.

“That's the thing, since people like you can’t cook, you make things like  _ Glazed-donut grilled-cheese breakfast sandwiches _ that give everyone that breathes in that direction diabetes.”

“Those are fucking delicious excuse you!”   
“Unbelievable.”

Ryan gave a slight chuckle as he opted out on the possible mouth sludge that Shane would sure enough ask him to try. He’d rather chug a mug full of boiling water than die from a sodium related stroke. He put himself on a counter with just enough butt space to wriggle in. This was going to be quite the show, considering that there was a nervous horizon creeping up Shane’s body. He wasn’t going to lie; He hoped that there weren’t going to be any spectatorship. Not that cooking was a problem for him. He’s had 200 to 300 or so years of experience. Besides, his pride is too big to let him tap out. This is war were talking about here!

He moved the sizzling contents around in the pan, letting the thinly sliced steak bits slide around in the pans oil to rub elbows with flakes of green onion. Red and green bell pepper was thrown in with bacon strips as soon as the meat showed signs of near-crisping. Sloppily whisked eggs were added with shredded cheese (in which he did shove a handful in his mouth beforehand, unceremoniously). Pepper and salt flew waywardly, casting curious expressions on Ryan’s face. Tater tots with the grease of a thousand cardiovascular related deaths were the last to join into the fray. A large flour tortilla was used to conceal the monstrosity into eternal darkness and foreboding mystery. Shane placed it on a plate, almost covering the diameter of it entirely. His eyes lingered over to study Ryan, being filled with spite and contradiction. The cautious man receded slowly, with the blanket falling to the ground.

There was hesitance in the air, and the smaller man knew better than to stay for his eminent doom. He soon broke into a sprint.

Shane placed the plate on the counter and chased after him. He was surprised at the speed of the man. Ryan skid down the hallways corner, letting the chaos shroud itself in confusion.

“You can’t escape the delicious fate dude.”

“Yes I can” 

Shane sped off the corner chasing after the victim. Their lack of shoes made for a disturbing amount of debris on their feet. Since when did they stop cleaning? There was a constant  _ pat pat patting _ from Ryan’s feet. The direction he was going would soon lead him to a dead end. That is, if he doesn’t take the risk. There’s a chance that he could throw Shane off if he were to cut back to the livingroom and go through the glass doors into the outside world. Yes, he would be met with a chilly fate, but he was prepared to take that direction as he passed by the kitchen to grab his previously abandoned blanket, even if it slowed him down.

The only thing heard in the residents was now the slow and heavy breathing from the taller man, with him looking back and forth in search of Ryan. Seeing as the yard doors were open, he decided even if the little man were to stupidly be out there, he’d knock to come back in. With this bribery in mind, he deemed himself victorious rather quickly, and went to set his plan in motion. The man was a fun guy. Plus, he hasn’t chased a soul in forever. It’s been a while. Of course, he knew that with a stroke of fate that could all change, yet he’d rather not let his mind wander there for some reason. Whatever it may be, the burrito is still warm, and he was planning on making Ryan eat it.

There was a slight tapping on the glass doors and Shane was filled with a kind of laughter that threatened to destroy someone inside and out. He held the plate as he approached the door, seeing the poor man’s eyes widen in terror. Barely audible renditions of “Let me in.” and “Don’t be an ass.” Hung in the air, but with no one to reply. Shane gave a stare of death in his eyes. They were void of any expression, but paired so fiendishly with the cold smile on his lips. He pulled out his phone up to Ryan’s contact and began typing.

__

I want you   ✓

To eat the damn food   ✓

In exchange for your housing   ✓

You asshole   ✓ _ Read 10:43 am _

 

Said asshole plopped down onto the snow and refused to read what he had to say. No amount of unholy deals will force him to budge from his spot, even if he was freezing and getting terribly wet. Shane locked the doors and closed their blinds, leaving Ryan with no way of peering- or coming for that matter- into safety from the biting cold.

The baneful man strode over to the soulless chimney and snapped his fingers, having a small ember fly from between them. It danced in the air ever so slightly, floating dully towards the charcoal and splintwood like pieces of charr. In one blinding light, there was a  _ fwoosh _ of fire lighting the area like a furnace gone mad. They roared at the very top of the brick tubing. He lets them thrive for some time, forgetting that the flames began to escape. 

There were memories dancing in his mind that elicited certain responses; leaving the mother of embers to swell in accordance. The faces he’s seen through travel, the time he’s spent lying in open fields only to find a dingo or some other animal prancing about. He misses it, truly. There’s nothing stopping him from actually going back ofcourse, but the species he poses as hold that as a commodity or simply too plain of an activity. Besides, those animals and other wildfolk have been robbed of their homes, the friends he miss have either grown to a ripe age or wilted long ago remembering when a certain man in their lives just disappeared without a trace. It made him feel odd, seeing people mourn the character he charaded as, or seeing them visit what once was his house over and over again to see if there were any signs of life. Those days were a burden, bearing heavy on his mind. It hurt him madly, feeling a mix of things he knew wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t get close, but he knew more than any demon that taking over a body required sustenance, and that means to socialize as a local to the area. He just wish he found a different way to get close to those he was tasked to torment. It’s not like he could stay in his demon form for long. Shane’s forehead poured with sweat. Just how long has he spent in front of the flames? 

Drywall from the ceiling began chipping off, and the living room was soon engulfed in ash and soot. His “Quick thinking” resulted in a small fit of anxiousness, only motivating the fire. A feeling of complete stupidity came over him, as he realized the solution. The fire once rolling like it had a mind of its own, quells with Shane’s solitary whisper to the atmosphere, leaving the air to stand still. The now small burnings stilled to a smallness that was sure to comfort. With the snap of his fingers the room went to its normal state, as if there wasn’t a freak accident that anyone from a 20 mile radius could have seen from the excess smoke of the fireplace and the puffs of debris from under the doors. Shane’s stomach did a backflip when he remembered someone was outside. 

This was gonna be a big mess.

__


	3. Ask the right questions next time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes two emotional-support bastards think better than one. Especially If they hate each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What crap ass excuse should I give my readers, hu?" -Me, like yesterday

His huff created a plume of breath over his face, feeling as if the ice was crystalizing his blood in slow and sharp pin pricks; taking hostage of the little to no warmth Ryan’s body produced out in this cold. His gaping jaw was trying to desperately clamp itself shut, but jittered on without fail. The fibers in the blanket did nothing but retain the meltings of the snow, making way for soft splotches on his skin; veins feeling alive with fire on his legs. They danced and vibrated with sharp pangs of tightening skin and horripilation. Ryan’s breath hitched when his legs gave a quake and felt the snow’s tears “roam freely”. It was disturbing to say the least of the situation. With a huff of annoyance small man rose and cursed at what he hoped wasn’t the wind which had no ear to pay.

“My ass is freezing off, Shane. This isn’t funny.”

“Please open the door.”

“Please,” his voice piped in a burning tone.

There was a sense of longing in his voice. He felt ridiculous, but refused to admit it to himself. Shane tended to be unreasonable sometimes, but this just wasn’t him. It feels like somethings wrong, or atleast bothering Shane. It couldn’t be a big problem, right? Definitely. It still doesn’t justify this though.

There was a slight  _ puff _ he heard not too far from his field of vision. The chimney was bustling with wheezes of underuse and sent a cacophony of timeridden ash spiraling into the sky. This nonetheless wasn’t the most disturbing revelation, as blankets of warm orange light and the smell of crisp wood seeped their way through creaks and crannies in the house. 

The worst in Ryan’s imagination had now surfaced to what might as well could have been reality.

There was a small fraction, a sliver, in him that spoke out and exclaimed:

_ This isn’t right. This doesn’t feel good. Something’s wrong. _

He gave into that inner voice and frantically knocked the glass doors. The curtains over them were hiding an orange dancing glow, but the more he thought about it, the less it flickered. Ryan felt as if he were to close his eyes, it would be gone. Just as quickly as he was shut out, Shane slid the doors open and let him in. There was a small fire cackling in the already lit room. With a broom, Shane dusted stray black debris that plagued the corners of the cabin out to the snow. There was a certain air of awkwardness that was thick enough to make its own atmosphere. Ryan bore holes into the back of his friend’s head and sighed.

“What the fuck was that? I know what I saw.” 

Shane plastered on a shit-eating grin and and said through a smirk, “If you know what you saw then why ask?”

“There’s already a question on the table, cheeky bastard.” Ryan sternly followed with a small yet firm and not-at-all-effective follow up. “I saw a bunch of dust and shit come from under the doors and windows.”

“I was brooming. That’s why I let you in. This place is my uncles, remember? The only reason why he lent it is because he never cleans. Also, since I cooked for your ungrateful ass, I guess i’m an underappreciated housewife.” Shane wipes a fake tear for comedic effect.

Ryan stands in his own spot for a few seconds in disbelief. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that something shady was brewing. Ryan may take hearth in poking fun on people’s day, but he isn’t one for mind games. He then took refuge under his lightly soaked and matted blanket that for a few seconds, was lamely draped over his feet (not that they minded, being as cold as they are). His slightly sinister quiet hung subtly over Shane’s conscious, yet barely dented his attitude towards the ordeal in a whole. 

“Go change, ‘cause you’ve been tracking in dirty snow, mister” said Shane. A small and nervous smile crept up onto his face, hoping that hyperfixation can cover denial and character in a versatile manner. Ryan’s having none of it but compiles, taking the bait for the better of what could mean a headache. That doesn’t mean that he’s not letting it percolate, though.

There’s a soft pattering of feet and melting snow alike, resonating from the small believer. He made his way to the room that was gifted to him upon arrival, and made a beeline for the closet, leaving the oversized blanket behind. He opened the closet doors and snagged a towel with some loosely-fit clothing that he was sure wasn’t his but rather already in the house before he even knew of its existence. They smelled of wood, smoked and sweet, which was likely from the interior shelving, but none the matter. 

It was inviting, really.

Ryan’s body seemed to act on its own accord, taking the incentive of a warm bath into survival-like consideration. As soon as his hands let go of the metal knob that adorned the bathroom door, he peeled off his discomforting clothes; smelling of dirty water and cold grime.

His hands made strong and slender  _ Plinks _ that strewed on the time-weathered handles of the bathtub, which kissed spirits of themselves tenderly over their metalness. Ryan plugged the drain and basked in the tubs growing warmth; . The heat ran through the tap and flowed in one singular burst. It wasn't choppy or twist-streamed. As if knowing of its destination, it slowed and perched into a pristine chad of warm water. There was something forming at the bottom, giving the impression of a black mass. Every time Ryan kept his eyes on the mass it seemed to fade from reality. There was no clear distinction of its existence, as his vision couldn't determine if it was present or a figure of his disillusionment.

**_Run_ ** , he heard.

**_Please leave_ **

**_It hurts_ **

**_I miss them_ **

Tendrils of hair and mossed grime erupted in plumes, creating a thick layer on the water's surface. It formed into a pair of thin and swirling arms that groped at Ryan's skin for a few seconds.

That’s when he heard the dull  _ thud  _ outside the bathroom.  Every part of his body lit up with a disgust that made his lip quiver by impulse.

They slid across his body and cupped at his chest and face, getting too close for comfort. Being too scared to aggravate its tender strokes, he only took soft breaths. The arms spindled over his body and combed his hair with a sincerity only a deep loved one could have. The entity propped his head up and let his neck stretch languidly, which gave it a full view of the glory to behold. With its sleek fingers it palmed at his throat and armored over the host for support. 

It fastened itself around his neck and curled up over to his ears. Through gruff bubbles of muck it grunted in a small voice, 

**_please just go_ **

The slush spiked its way into Ryan's ears, mouth and nostrils, mercilessly tearing through anything in its path. Bright red spuds of blood were milked right out of his orifices and persisted through their destruction. The door was rhythmically pounding away while he was put into a state of shock, unmoving and immobile; yet his eyes beading and pouring with tears. His voice was long gone, almost having seemed to leave the room entirely in a dry grit. Ryan's arms dared not move, but still had a white-knuckle grip on the porcelain. He could scarcely believe that his own body could handle this much all at once, let alone think about how long he could last. His ears poured with brown and green sludge, being pulsed with maggot infested sacks that bursted on contact. They were carnivorous and parasitic in nature, as they dug their way through his eardrums that had already been torn. His legs refused to thrash about, but his feet cringed in pain, trying harshly to kick at the water in its wake. His mouth was only held by shreds, being as his jaw was slacked open and pulled out of its lock, because of the foul entity that pumped on and on; getting faster as it went. His nose was swamped with crawling and carnivorous legions, swarming all over to cover as much ground as possible. 

The long gut-pulling length of the monster was pumping into his throat and churning as much as it could of his insides. Saliva, blood, what he assumed was bile began to flood what was left of his airways and harassed his tongue with a grime so heinous that the taste of it made Ryan heave alone, shreds of stomach convulsing and wriggling with whatever that was inside trying to find a new home. It thudded rhythmically with the pounding on his skull. His brain threatened to give way and surrender, having screams of its own to shriek. The door rained with blow after blow and increased in tempo and likewise to his brain. The leeching of the vermin went unforgivingly on as they reached the corners of his skull. He violently convulsed once, letting the water flail around him and out the tub,

Then twice,

Then a third,

And finally gave in and let the mass consume him, pulling Ryan down under the water by the nape of his hair in one neck-snapping motion. His body now wrecked and floating lifelessly, with creature and muck alike floating about.

 

Ryan jolted up awake after a pair of hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him out with a josle that shook him to his core. He breathed in and savoured the feeling of air. It was fresh and filled with life. He heard a rather booming voice frantically curse and spit venoms only a god-fearing monster would make. Even if that situation is an oddly specific one. A nice towel hugged him as if to say  _ I am here _ , and covered his eyes for just a small moment.

He found a small sense of warmth and yelped when he was suddenly hugged from behind and caressed with small whispers of comfort. Shane was here, and he was safe. Only then did Shane ask, “What the hell happened? You were in there for an entire 2 hours. I asked if you were fine and I didn’t hear you say a thing. Next thing I know I have to drag you out the tub and check and save you.”

Ryan was too fazed to say but only mumbled a little apology and let his body rest in Shane’s. If there’s anything he knows, it’s that Shane had a tendency to persist on his intentions. Normally he would oppose this type of contact but he was too scared to move. Shane was here and he was safe. All is well.

After a while the tall and lanky man drained the oddly clean bathwater. It only worsened his fears in thinking of the possibility of the entire ordeal being intentional, even if he hoped and knew better of him. It’s not like he could even recall the last time Ryan had life troubles. If they were, they would be so immaculate that it would fly over their heads. Still, that didn’t stop the seed of doubt in his mind from festering. It was concerning to say the least. Shane left without making a scene but hesitated and said, “Look, if somethings wrong, you can tell me. I can only help you if you talk to me, but still, you don’t have to if you can’t.”

Ryan smiled, but even that quickly left him as he thought of what this could mean to his circles of people, or even worse, what it could mean to Shane.

If anything, this could be the same thing that made him see what could have been a large orange light in the house. After all, he was convinced that he never even fell asleep in the tub. If he did, he would have remembered getting sleepy. He wondered if it was Shane that made the noise from the other side of the door. It felt like it was a  _ bad  _ thing though. By now, he was growing restless and decided to change into the nicely folded clothing he had previously set out. It was really big, but suited him nonetheless. The oversized sweatshirt was tied at the hem to fit as much as possible, making a bow on his side. It had a faded picture of Eeyore with some sort of varsity logo. The rather long pajama pants had a nice green plaid, and they were cuffed to prevent Ryan from tripping over himself, but he doubted it would ever happen.

He stepped out the sopping-wet bathroom and shut the door behind him, not wanting whatever was in there to follow him. He walked out to the dining room to be met with a foam take-out box being thrusted into his arms. 

“You didn’t wanna eat breakfast so I ordered takeout. I hope you like it, cause some poor guy was forced to buy it and then trek out all the way in the snow to deliver.” Shane smiled at what appeared to be his successful attempts of getting Ryan to finally eat. By now it’s already lunchtime, but none the matter. What was important was that Ryan’s ok now. 

“Were you trying to guilt trip me, cause it’s working,” the starving one said.

“Me? Please! I wouldn’t ever even dream of it. Save those lips for eating, cause you look like you've seen a ghost,” Shane’s poor sarcasm still, took affect, as the hunger-stricken man opened the box to be met with a plume of smoke and an overly-generous serving of food awaited him. That night was the first time in his life that he wasn’t all too happy to be greeted with the sight of indo chicken fried rice.

 

There was a gap in between their conversations, and it was too big for Shane’s liking. He knew that Shane was avoiding the conversation solely because he wanted to protect Ryans privacy, but it was leaving too much awkwardness in its wake. They were watching tv and commentated on a few things, but it was still a large pause that made him go nuts. Or was it just the fact that Ryan alone was making things difficult. Theoretically it was, but it wasn’t exactly intentional. His mind drifted off to when Shane held him jently, and how it was out of care alone and nothing else. It felt light and welcoming. It gave him the same feeling he got when he took a whiff of the clothing that he donnes now. He smiled softly and milked in the scent of the sweet wood and its age. He heard a small chuckle resonating from his side saying, “What’s up with you? Acting all like a hoarding garden gnome. And where did you find those? Don’t tell me you only brought day clothing.”

“I’m just enjoying the way the clothes feel. They’re rather comfy ya know.”

“Dude, those are my old clothes from like, 50-somethin’ years ago. Haven’t worn them since.”

“Yes, but i’m not interested in that. What I am interested is that it was a nice set of clothes that I don’t have to wash, and they feel soft so its free real estate.” 

“I wanna know who you are, and what you did to my Ryan, because my Ryan, doesn’t ever reference a meme,” Shane said with an accusatory big smile.

Ryan definitely didn’t think that someone calling him theirs would make him feel that doey, but here he is, doing exactly that. 

“There was a small part of me that thought you would say that so I gotta admit that it was a risk.”

“It was a risk you took that was calculated, but man, you are bad at math.” Shane had a bit of a laughing fit after that, taking a liking to wherever the conversation was headed, all the while Ryan slowly but surely found himself liking the way that he was being treated. Maybe it was the grand gesture of saving him, or the “dream” itself, but he had grown a small seed of annoyingly-bright sunlight inside of himself, and he kinda doesn’t wanna get rid of it.

______________

 

A small piece of Shane told him that there was no way to make him forget what he saw, and was hoping that whatever Ryan managed to conjure in his head wasn't so bad after all. Shane knew that he was having a nightmare, but couldn't seem to get in. His friends subconscious was locked deeply, and it would take months to actually get  _ that  _ deep into his mind. He needed to be trusted deeply, or at least turning him on. This was a big predicament, for sure, but there was no telling how he would start protecting his human and easily-impressed friend's dreams, but he wasn't just gonna  _ sit  _ there. He did have (to some degree) access to do something about it, but like, why the heck would he want to? That's the confusing part.

Besides, how would the big man see it? And by big man, he meant the largest asshole on the planet. He imagined that it wouldn't look to nice for his cred after all, he already took a big bite outta his league when he stole Goatman's bridge. It's like taking candy from kids (That is, if you have guilt to that degree. This is just a small ratio.) Shane waved the thoughts off and played with the gas stove. Its flames cackled at food that was poorly wiped and since then brittled to crust. A spectre of the light seemed to bobb its way into view as it lapped at his fingers.

**You know, it looks like you're getting close again**

**Better not get caught**

“What did I say about meddling?”

**Boo hoo**

**Mr Traitor doesn't like the truth**

**How long has it been since you** **_actually_ ** **Eternally-damned a soul anyway**

**It only spells trouble for a flesh fucker like you**

“Beat it goatshit. I call you out on your territory and you don't even bother manifesting a pinecone to throw at me.”

**Whatever**

**Have fun with your pocket pussy**

The flame dissipates to level with the other burners, and with it, Shane's immediate patience. He only had visits like that to poke fun at him for making friends with the lowly, but he hasn't been talked to since he's been a conversation piece. Somehow, they found a way to bring him up and he needs to watch his hide. There's also no reason for the little shit to be here if he wasn't working, so there might be a rationality to Ryan's dream business after all. The thought of something else messing with his things sparked a small tent of disgust in his throat. There was only the faint smell of gas in the air; and it gave Shane a good idea. Of course, by good, it means completely idiotic.


	4. Finally, some lore (?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking? just read it! babey!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im hella sorry for another 3k im just bad at this gig lets face it :D

Everything felt so full. The water was thick and soupy with salt. The deeper Ryan fell, the more bone-chilling it became. He could sense a fading high, like a sharp sense of reality attempted to ram itself into his skull. Loud pops of inky water erupted and violated what was his swamped ears. There was a feeling  that screamed at him in horrible volumes,

**_I am alive._ **

All of Ryan was encompassed in an ocean of liquid that nipped at all of his being. His whole body was in contact with a force that kept him docile, slow, and cumbersome. His mind was flooded with light; burning ever so brightly. So bright it made an inaudible hum. It vibrated in both in the back and front of his mind. 

The man’s body spun in a typhoon of dark and salty ocean, with lungs burning for another few breaths. Waves crashed into him in punches that sent him twirling away, carried by the current. His eyes burst open for a way out but it only serves to burn at the touch of salt. Ryan’s face cringes in pain as he’s left rolling in storm; body now stifling coughs of desperation and desert-like dryness; white and crumbling away at his gasps for air. The water now murky was alluring to the deep. Once Ryan shifts his eyes to the endless chasm of sand and solitude, the waves cease to rage, like a tantrum now turned slumber. The whole ocean sat in stillness, listening in like prey on its hind legs; waiting for a sound of alert. His core felt numb, and made him feel so tired. He didn’t want to fight the waves anymore. His mind said he’d be happy in the deep, but knew not to succumb so easily to the notion. 

At last, rays of mellow seeped into the basin of water; piling up at the surface. It wrapped around Ryan’s waist and felt so familiar with delicacy. His body was ragdolled to the shore and laid to rest, with small waves lapping at his feet. Rods of heat swaddled Ryan and wiped his tears, blowing ever so softly at the creases on his forehead, and set back his hair. His breaths were quick and pained but soon turned into a child’s shutter post-tantrum. Basking in all of the gifts the sun had to offer, his body began stretching his aching muscles in languid shakes. He grabbed and bunched at his chest from being winded for so long and grimaced at the last gusts of cold that were gracefully short lived. A large warm palm pushed his hands away to sooth the heaves that wracked Ryan’s body; long languid circles that massaged their way to his peace. Everything is well as his fluttering winds slow to a drowsiness, like an animal now freed from their prey’s grasp. The limbs that once begged to reach solid ground have now lain to comfort on the sand like floor. The man now knew that he was safe. It felt great, being safe. It felt like all worries drowned in a warm milk of happiness.

The small gales that dried him of weatheredness and smoothed the creaces he carries over his mind came to gently nudge at his cheeks; kissing him to a new day and even brighter ‘morrow. He absolutely loved having the colors of joy spread through every one of his limbs. Ryan loved this type of feeling. Being loved. It felt like a protection that keeps you safe. Being the lover of this flame was like a sense of validation. This validation wasn’t something completely alien to him. But the confidence he had with his body of sun that coiled over him was so invigorating that he couldn’t help holding its hands and pushing his face in between; having the dewey-gold drip from its fingertips and over his lifeline. This was more than validation or confidence. This was a pure joy in mutual feelings. Being able to enjoy one’s presence and that alone. The romance of sentimentality was an unknown- but welcome- feeling. 

He just felt like it was going to end; awkward and unreciprocated.

______________________

**_Thunk, Thunk, Thunk_ **

was the only thing heard before a slight stir. The thick quilt’s weight felt like a beautiful heaven on Ryan’s body. He didn’t like the sudden disturbance from his awfully private dream, but his eyes bursted open at the smell of a sweet thickness. It wafted from the small crack of the door (presumably opened by the source of the mysterious noise), and was a stark contrast to the white of the cold house. Ryan’s feet slid from the bed and carried his body to the source of that magical smell, yet felt attacked by the ice of the floorboards. An oddity was taking place when the stoutly statured man set foot into the kitchen.

Shane was standing over the stove with a marshmallow and fork in one hand, and bags of graham crackers and chocolate in the other. “Mornin’, parter.” was the first thing said between the two of them. 

Ryan hoisted himself onto the island of the kitchen while grunting a small, “Hey.”

With a small crinkle in his eye, Shane smiles and tries to make small talk. His inner eye screams at point blank: _ ‘There’s got to be a way to make some small talk. _ ’ He hopes that the first thing to come to mind won’t be too bad or anything. Maybe something he’s thinking about? The things he’s thinking of are certainly within the qualifications of the term  _ something _ . He just wasn’t so sure that telling someone you’d like to see them in your oversized clothing that predates their existence as a whole is an ok thing to do, ya know? But that settler-era cotton button up is  _ perfect _ to wake up to him in. Sadly, the big man would never grant his two wishes, which are to share that sentience and longevity with his beloved, and have his feelings returned. The best he could do though? Keep stalling at his job to tornment (and/or date) cute guys (such as him truly). So for now, all he has in his brain is stupid. So naturally, he replies in stupid.

“You know what's kind of funny? Just seeing you sitting here all by yourself in your-” Shane stops suddenly, having his mind go momentarily blank. He quickly attempts to change the subject’s course. His hand reaches the back of his neck in slight embarrassment as there was an air of misstep. They never bothered to listen white noise this much, like it was rude  _ not  _ to.

Finally, the odd one piped up and went on to talk about their plans for the week. 

“I know that things haven’t been great for us so i think that we can take at least today to rest until i take you around town. I feel that the locals would would be a good influence. They’re sweet, you know.” 

“That sounds nice, but i think that we could do that tonight, actually. I've been wanting some fresh air for some time now.”

Shane scoffed and smiled, giving off a warmth that Ryan was sure he’s seen before.

“I’ve been meaning to have a night out.” In the small one’s voice there was a certain pause , then jittery reaffirmation of, “You know, with you.” 

In that moment, talking about being with other people that weren't his friend, felt like a type of nervousness come over his body that he knew wasn’t ok. It felt dangerous, like a life or death situation. Why did fresh air seem so bad now (was it really fresh air he felt nervous of)? Why did the idea of spending time with Shane and others seem so bad (does he just wanna be alone with him to **_get that one feeling_** again)? It made him feel like he wanted to tear his face off (and  smile?). The thought of meeting people in this place felt like rocks were being thrown at his gut, and it hurt for some reason. It made him sluggish, and made Ryan question if it was just that he hasn’t ate yet. Plus, the town would be more scared to meet him, as it’s a close knit community. Whatever it is, he felt like puking when he spoke.

But like, in a weirdly good way.

_ I’ll make it out alive, It’s cool,  _ He thought.

Because of the offhand comment the other made, Shane almost forgot about the marshmallow on his fork and let its molten goodness drip onto his fingers. What he DID completely forget is that humans have low tolerances to pain, and went on shoving the sloppy mess in a half-broken cracker and piece of chocolate. He put it on a platter and passed it to Ryan, now having pink fingers that are covered in the cooled webbing of the mallow pulls. Ryan quickly took the plate from him and jumped off the kitchen counter hurriedly. In one swoop he tried snatching Shane’s hands from the ingredients and just as quickly let the bags of marshmallow pelt them both. With all of this commotion, the boys just gave up trying to do remotely anything whatsoever, and paused at the mess. None of them wanted to pick it up, and the charade of conversation like ‘nothing happened’  _ clearly _ didn’t work. Why do things end up in flames when someone experiences at least one emotion? The whole ordeal was too heavy to ignore and they finally broke.

First it was Ryan, letting his legs buckle under him. Shane followed suit and made no protests. The soft candies littered the floor around their legs and the crannies of their shirts. They were so tired of being humans with responsibilities. Constantly providing rationality with everything for the sake of the thoughts of others. It was too jarring to be a functioning member of society. A single mallow fell on Shane’s head, as they looked at eachother dead in the eyes for the first time in a while and laughed. Nothing was funny, but they were exponentially tired of everything. Their laughters filled the room as if to say  _ look at the mess we made. We couldn’t give a single fuck.  _ This was the break they needed, honesty. Vacations just kept them at each others necks because there  _ wasn’t  _ anything else to do. Ryan fell forward in a heap of emotional confusion. He felt happy, but that was just tension. He fell into Shane’s neck, using his shoulder for support. Shane responded in kind between gasps trying to say something along the lines of “We’re plain ol’ idiots,” having tears in his eyes. The smaller one pushed harder and let his friend(?) fall on his back. Shane didn’t mind, and pulled him down in unison.

The  _ clearly _ delusional boys laid there on top of one another to catch their breath, seeing stars in hunger and exuberance. 

With a slightly suspicious but offhand tone, Ryan defeatedly asked, “Why in the  _ world _ were you making s'mores for breakfast, you bad, bad man?”

Shane, being sarcastically curt, said, “I tried getting you to eat, and who doesn’t like sweets?’

“...Do your hands burn? You could get infected, I think.”

“ ‘S fine, ittl just blister a wee bit.”

“Is it bad that we’re fucking around for a bit?”

“Nah, not everything has to be ok. We just need to be real.”

Confused, Ryan fiddled with a mallow from the floor and asked, “ What do you mean?” He knew he  _ could  _ find the answer himself, but his brain did not wish to comply. He found himself shoving  the thing in one of Shane’s pockets, hopefully to remind him to eat or something. Really though, there was no actual reason, but Ryan liked that it  _ could  _ mean that.

“What I mean, is that we don’t hafta really ignore stuff.” Shane props himself up with an arm on the floor behind him, so he could look Ryan square in the face. With half a smile, he endearingly sighs, “I like what we have right here dude. It’s fun. I’m not gonna sugar coat it though, I can’t feel my leg, but like, it reminds me that we’re human n stuff. It really is fun.” He let go of his gaze and shifted his dead limb, feeling pins and needles that he isn’t a stranger to (with the long legs and all). With his free arm he threw it in the sky dramatically and swore in proclamation, “I love me some good assfuckery, that shit ain’t cheap.”

“Christ,” breathed out Ryan.

“But seriously though, if I don’t get up now i think my limbs ‘ll fall off.”

“Right.”

______________________

The day was bleeding in the sky when they set out, and there were plans to be fulfilled. The pair of hecklers trekked into the partially-melted snow to enjoy what the night has to offer. With a hearty sigh, Shane asked the question that makes any man shudder, even after hundreds of years of humane immortality and thousands in unholy crypt; “So… Whaddya wanna eat, bud?” Ryan whipped around and gave a soured face, curious and a bit confused.

“I thought you knew this place by heart. Is that not why you decided to invite me?”

Shane rolled his eyes and placidly gave a small sigh. “Yea, but what I mean is to give me a gist of what you want, so I could at the  _ least _ have something to go by.”

“How ‘bout a chinese restaurant. I doubt there’s any here with warm drinks though. I’ve been wanting a nice round of tea for a while.” 

“Actually, there  _ is _ a place, but it’s a hole-in-the-wall kind of thing. The owners are familiar with me enough to add a discount so I think a little dine n dash would be nice.”

“You are the last person I’d like to commit crimes with, but that sounds nice.”

The sky was glowing in bright oranges and pinks, having clouds that dome the earth perfectly. The only reason why it mattered to Shane so much is because he saw it reflect off the snow, both mirrors feeling equally as far. There was a type of dizziness in him that he couldn’t quite place well enough. The warm hues of the sky made welcome sparkles in Ryan’s eyes, and danced along his skin perfectly. The streets were filled with trash cans and the vermin that littered them.

Some fairylights were adorning the gutters in preparation of the coming celebrations; glittering through the alleyways deep and long. Shane recalled his yester-years, being robbed of his playthings in those alleys. Since then, he’s taken care of the racoon look alikes, and kept the city fairly crimeless. His domain would be a safe haven, being the only place where those who knew of his true nature thought no differently of him as to a plucky child. He was raised as would a young man would be, and was shaped into one of the most friendly faces anyone could know. The only thing they couldn’t teach him was a sense of guilt that surpassed his comedy. Somehow, his insufferability is the only quality that Shane was able to retain when posing as a human. Granted, his previous attempts at life were with malicious intent. Recently more than ever, that cycle has been so tiresome for him, thus bringing him to attempt enjoying life as a human would. 

The way humans strive towards goals that take their whole lifetime to prepare for seems so idiotic to him. It makes him feel terrible whenever he thinks of Ryan. He would rather not inconvenience Ryan with something as trivial as being part of his unholy musings. For some reason he just wants what’s best for his friend. He feels too selfish for wasting the poor guy’s time. The deep thought unearthed a new and even bigger worry;  _ What would the folks say about him having friends? _

“Hey dude, you alright?,” asked the believer. There was a concerned crease in his eyes that convinced Shane the man could read minds.

“Oh yea, I was just thinking… that I haven’t seen the locals in a while. Makes me feel a little bad, that’s all.”

“Well if that’s the case then at least you can catch up now. It’s not like they’ll hate you or something, right?”

“Well you aren’t wrong, it’s just an instinctual thing, you know?,” The skeptic said with an upturned tone in confusion. The feeling of inconvenience (moreso concealed worry) made Shane want to crawl out of his skin. What would everyone say of his first friend? How would they react to him  _ wanting _ friends is the bigger question. It used to be just be business buddies that happened to stop buy to discuss the new target market of victim. Would they prod at him for trying to have friends? He just hopes he can explain himself before a misunderstanding happens. If this were a cartoon, Shane would be sweating bullets with his nervous lips curled into squiggles that put curly fries to shame.

Moments had passed, and around time the pair had reached the corner of the street, the streetlights had buzzed to life, casting shadows that made the buildings paint themselves in a coziness that can be only be dreamed of. The two men come up to the final small and lonely restaurant on the block. There’s a neon sign from the window that signals 24 hour service. This is the first time Ryan felt relieved to have a type of fast food that would potentially slow him down in the snow. The feeling of having a bloated body while trudging in mounds of ice isn’t a happy one, but the hunger from these last few days of stress were more than enough to send him in a glutinous spiral.

Shane opened the door wide, having a small feeling of anxiousness rise from its wake. A small but humbly postured lady stood at the counter, having laugh lines that spanned most of her face. Her eyes were soft and welcoming, grey and full with a type of motherly sense. She cranes her neck up, with her turtleneck following suit, being adorned with festive pom-poms of greens, reds, and whites. A small and poorly sewn Santa Claus was plastered across the chest, being just as welcoming as she was. Her face shifts into a sweet and somber pose as she looks at Shane. There was a small pause before giving a happy, “Shane, dear.”

She reaches his face and gives a soft  _ pap _ of affection. He reaches her hand with a tender touch, like she would break any second. “Hi ma,” was the last thing he said before she sat down the party of two in a nice booth. The table was worn, but definitely hield up to the test of time. Before Ryan could talk about what he just saw, The lady brought over a tea kettle and a few packets of sugar. Her hands poured out two small cups of the drink and handed them towards the group. The gray and white strands of hair she had were gathered once it reached her shoulder into a side-plate type braid that splayed over the beginning of her chest. 

Looking down, Shane decided to start the conversation by warming his hands with the cup of tea and saying, “Sorry for not visiting often. I’ve been busy doing things at home. I thought it would be nice to check up on you and uh… bring a friend over.” The last of his sentence sounded sweet and mellow. This was in stark contrast to the burning hot anxiousness he feels when thinking of what she’s gonna say. This normally wouldn’t matter, but he made the decision to have her be a big part of his life long ago. She should have been long gone by now, but the deal for being taught how to be human has been made for a few decades now. She took him in when he was desperately looking for a way to integrate to society, and now does the same for countless other children whom she watches mature by the generations. 

“I didn’t expect this from you, darling. You were always so closed off to others. I’m glad you aren’t missing out on the most important things in this life, dear.” Her hands slowly mixed a spoonful of a sugar packets worth of sweetness into his drink. Her eyes meet Ryan’s as she says, “Tell me about yourself, and if you’d be so kind, why you’d choose to have such a wiley and slippery boy in your life?” 

“Excuse me?,” he said in a slightly upturned voice. The question resonated in him well enough for a pause. Eventually, the lady smiled and said, “Well, nonethematter, I personally don’t know why I had such a mess of a child in my life either.” She gave Shane a vengeful glance as he let out a laughter of relief. 

“Ma, you’re the one that took me in, so it’s your judgement against you.” 

She rolled her eyes and spoke,”Well that settles it. He roped you in with his dashing looks, didn’t he? I swear, if he didn’t take up my manners, he had my beauty. He’s such a fine boy.” 

Shane, having melted in his chair by now, couldn’t reply to her statement and heard a confused, “I don’t think i'm catching onto what you’re implying here, Miss,” from a red-in-the-face Ryan. The taller one took this time to excuse himself to the bathroom, not wanting to have to mess up and correct himself to his mother on their relationship status. His stride was fast paced and calculated, as all he wanted was to cool down in the restroom. 

With a slam of the door, he hoped that she didn’t think he was one of his victims of some sort. The way he felt when she spoke of their relations made him feel upset in a way he couldn’t quite place. For the most part, he wasn’t angry or nervous. This type or upset felt good to him. It was odd, but it just made him want to relish in the feeling even more. 

His thoughts were cut short when the lights to the bathroom flickered, and the pipes from the sink bursted. Chunks of sewage and waste piled on top of itself in an effort to create a vessel of some sort. Diamond slit eyes were plaguing the sides of its face as a dirtied snout once white pushed its way from within. Long fingernails of charred and crusted blood coated his arms and hooves. The burning orbs met eye to eye with Shane, and soon shot open wide to add on to the only dark and rugged voice that was heard in the bathroom at that moment; 

“ **Boo.** ”


End file.
